Moonrays
by Psyromayniak
Summary: Set before Sonea was discovered. Akkarin based. Akkarin is having some trouble with the slaves the Ichani are sending, but then a mysterious woman from beyond Sachaka pays him a visit, she is a Black Magician, but one of a different, more deadly kind
1. Chapter 1

**Moonrays**

Chapter 1: The midnight visitor

Touching the brass handle on the door to his room, Akkarin sighed as the strong, oak door swung inwards with a creak. It had been a long night. He illuminated the cold darkness within with a shallow globe light that cast shadows of the spars furniture twisted on the bare floorboards.

Stepping in without hesitation, Akkarin removed his bloodied shirt, the brisk night air cool on his chest. Silently, Takan entered behind him, still holding the deadly, curved blade by its jewelled handle. Before handing him his clothes, Akkarin gazed at it, the pale moonlight reflecting off it. If he didn't know what it was used for, he thought, it may well have seemed beautiful here.

Closing his eyes and turning away, Akkarin stepped into his washed and pressed nightclothes, his incal embroided in gold thread on the translucent silk sleeve.

'You need to rest, master' Takan said from the doorway, his thick, Sachakan accent even more apparent in the silence of the night. Akkarin looked up at his willing servant, into his large, green eyes, so filled with concern and worry.

' As do you Takan' he smiled slightly at the fatigue that the man was clearly trying to hide, but was written so boldly all over his face, ' yet I know that you will not rest until I am sound asleep, and even then you will still find it hard to drift off, knowing what is still out there and looking for me…' once again his expression was grave, 'another night the slave has eluded me… more murders will surely follow if someone doesn't find him soon, if _I_ don't find him soon!'

Takan backed away in fear as an anger like no other burned furiously in his masters' eyes. Flames of rage appeared around Akkarin's clenched fists, the edges of his nightshirt beginning to turn black and char with the intense magical heat. Standing up rigidly, Akkarin strode to the open window and stared coldly into the night. He wanted to scream and shout his anger. His anger for the Sachakan slaves that were drawing their power from the dwells, his anger for the Ichani for taking his life and the woman he loved and smashing them all to smithereens so long ago and anger at the rest of the guild for not seeing the obvious threat that lied beyond the allied lands, in the wastelands of Sachaka. But he couldn't. That would mean confessing to the crime that he had to commit on a regular basis. A crime that wouldn't just get him removed from his position of high lord, or even just exiled. He would be executed, for seeking knowledge of, learning how to use and practicing _Black Magic_. From the high window in his room, Akkarin could see through the darkness the sleeping guild. The novice's quarters so filled with noise and movement during the daylight hours had fallen still. Only a few globes could be seen in the windows of magician's rooms, most likely those of teachers preparing work for their classes the next day. And even the nightroom was silent. How could they sleep when a threat the guild had not faced for centuries was strengthening their forces, preparing to invade and take over.

Returning to his bed, Akkarin lay on the soft, down mattress and closed his eyes. Looking to the doorway through the gloom, he could see that Takan was still standing there faithfully, not wanting to leave his masters side.

'Go, Takan, you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. You will be needing your sleep just as much as I will.' As the servant left, Akkarin sighed again and extinguished the globe light, plunging the room into near darkness. He knew that Takan would not sleep, just as Takan knew that that his master would not either.

But the Ichani will not be sleeping, Akkarin thought to himself, they would also be lying awake, knowing that they would have to send another, stronger slave soon, and that they would have to relinquish another main part of their power source to come and fight him in the vein hope that one of these ill-trained, unskilful Sachakans would gain enough power from the dwells to defeat the most powerful magician in the allied lands. But they would soon see his weakness, that he was the _only _magician using black magic in the allied lands, and that it was a crime punishable by death.

But lets not think of the future right now… I have more pressing matters at hand. Akkarin rolled over and closed his eyes, a comforting darkness enveloping him. Tomorrow, he thought, tomorrow…

* * *

Akkarin woke with a start, suddenly aware of a presence in the room besides himself. How long had he been asleep? Not long, as the moon was still high in the sky. Had the slave found him already? He couldn't believe that a mere slave of the Ichani could possibly have the courage to penetrate the guild, to confront him where he was at his most powerful, unless… unless an Ichani had decided to pay him a visit! Quickly, Akkarin strengthened the shield around him, rolled over, and threw himself out of his bed, ready to send a full-strength force-strike at the next thing that moved.

But to his surprise, standing in front of him was a tall, slender woman clad in thick, weather beaten, leather armour, long black hair and thin face outlined by the light of the light of the full moon. In her right hand she held a rapier, grooved from battle but gleaming with a light that only magic could create. Akkarin could sense her strong, unfamiliar magical presence, unhidden, radiating from her body. Her eyes were violet, penetrating deep into his own, and her lips slender and painted black.

' _You are the high lord Akkarin_' when she spoke, her voice commanding, and laced with no emotion, she showed her teeth, pronounced canines protruding slightly over her lips. She had a thick accent that he could not place, and her features were like that of which she had never scene before, in any of the lands he had visited on his travels.

'I am. Who are you and what is your business here, be it with the guild or with me, at this late hour?' he took on the mask of authority that he wore when dealing with his ' little family'.

'_My name is Lady Ana Pavel, and my business is with you, _Dark Lord_' _as she replied, she sheathed her sword; the light extinguished, and strode forward to look Akkarin in the eye.

Akkarin's muscles tensed, the name 'Dark Lord' was one that the Ichani had mocked him with when he had been their 'pet' guild magician. But this woman was definitely _not_ Sachakan, and she had used the name more like a title than that of mockery. She lent forward to touch him, but was met with a powerful, unheld back force-strike, that would have killed an ordinary person, and shattered the shield of, knocked out and brutally injured any magician in the guild.

It just rippled with a purple glow off the tall woman's shield; her expression was still cold, unemotional.

'Who are you?' Akkarin shouted with a force that would have made a lower magician shrink back with fear. The woman simple smiled, showing her fanged teeth clearly in the moonlight.

' _I am Lady Ana Pavel, I know your secret Dark Lord, and I know what troubles you so. I am not unlike you, Akkarin; I am not your enemy. I am your strongest ally'_


	2. Chapter 2: Dining with a bat

Chapter 2: Dining with a Bat

Slowly, keeping his eyes pinned on her, Akkarin advanced on the woman that stood before him. Lady Ana Pavel held his gaze, her violet eyes glinting in the light of the full moon.

' My ally, you say…' Akkarin spoke, his deep voice echoing slightly in the enclosed room, ' in what way would that be?'

'_Dark Lord, we have a common enemy. The Ichani are a threat to us both, and have damaged our lives in ways that we could never tell another living soul'_ Ana lifted her head, dark hair rippling with the movement. She in turn advanced to Akkarin, her height almost matching his. '_I have travelled far from my homeland, beyond Sachaka, to make an alliance with you… and your guild if they so wish it'_

'What kind of alliance?' the suspicion was clear in his voice as he spoke, subconsciously strengthening the magical shield he had placed around himself, 'you said that we were alike, yet you are from a land so far away, you are not in the allied lands, so such an alliance is _forbidden_ by the king…'

At this Ana smiled, displaying her bone-white fangs, '_you are not the only one here that has broken laws, Dark Lord. I have by just being here, though it is not punishable by death. We are alike in many ways, I too have been prisoner of the Ichani, forced into slavery once, long ago…'_

Akkarin stood, wide eyed at this. How did she know of his time in Sachaka, and how did she know of his practicing of black magic, and the punishment involved? Surely she could be not… NO! He would have sensed her is she had been reading his mind. Unless-

A light knocking at the door interrupted his train of thought.

'_Your servant is quite the worrier, Dark Lord' _Again Ana smiled. Akkarin grimaced; it was not the most pleasant of experiences, for it was a cold smile that hinted at the twisted being beneath. '_He may come in is you wish it, but I will be long gone by then… We need more time to talk; can you suggest a time and place? Preferably at _night, _the sun does get to my skin so…' _

'Tomorrow evening, here. I believe Takan to be trustworthy, so I shall introduce you more… formally. We shall discuss maters over a meal, for good food and wine does get a conversation going' Akkarin watched in amazement as, following his words, the woman crouched on the floorboards, brining her cloak around her.

It drew in tighter and tighter, the folds of the velvet rapping themselves around and around the head, torso and limbs of what once was the Lady Ana Pavel. The shape grew smaller and less human, from where her head was, the outline of her face began to disfigure, becoming more snout like, and the top of the head morphed into twin cone-shapes, elongated, constantly twitching. Her arms spread wide from beneath the soft material, her fingers outstretched, longer and thinner. The cloak itself, stretched between her hands and body, became like a thin membrane, the veins visible through the cloth in the pale moonlight. The animalistic shape was even smaller, about the size of a domestic cat. The velvet cloak became tighter, a second skin, outlining the transformed body. From beneath, two tiny black eyes opened, as did the mouth, revealing two sharp white fangs. With an ear-piercing screech, the bat took to the air and flew out of the open window and into the night.

Akkarin was frozen to the spot. Even with his extensive knowledge of magic, both Black and mundane, he had no idea what he had just witnessed. There was still a strong magical residue left in his room. Whatever had just happened, it had taken more magic than he dared think about, and obviously Lady Ana still had much energy left.

Once again he was aware of the soft tapping at his door. The past thirty seconds had gone by amazingly slowly. Who, no, _WHAT _is she? Akkarin wondered to himself, as he walked to his bedroom door. He placed his hand on the brass handle and swung the door inwards.

'Master? I heard voices coming from your room… is everything alright?' Takan looked up at Akkarin with wide green eyes.

'All is well, Takan, all is well…' Akkarin smiled warmly at his servant, 'I just had a late night visitor, that's all… she will be dining with me tomorrow evening, so I think you had better get some sleep…'

'Of course, my master!' the Sachakan hurried away to his rooms, his feet shuffling on the rich carpet in the hallway. Closing the door with a sigh, Akkarin strode back to his bed. He would surely get no sleep _now._

* * *

Lady Ana Pavel awoke with the dusk. The sun had faded into the sky, and the first stars were beginning to shine. Soon, she would be joining the High Lord Akkarin to discuss a possible alliance between them.

Looking down from where she hung in an old oak, Ana could just make out the sleeping shape of Seff, her accompanier from her homeland. He was neither born nor brought up in Ramayi, but in Deschutz, one of the neighbouring countries. He spoke quickly, and was sometimes difficult to understand, but his soft amber eyes, handsome features and scruffy brown hair made him almost impossible to be angry at. She let go of the branch that she had grasped between her feet, and fluttered down to his side, the dry autumn leave rustling ever so slightly beneath her. A smile played on her blackened lips as she morphed back into her more _human_ shape. Placing a cold hand with long, black-painted nails on the sleeping Seff, Ana whispered in his ear, '_wakey, wakey sleepy head… time to go hunt!'_

Almost agonizingly, the young man opened his eyes, to find himself staring at the deathly-white face of Lady Ana Pavel. He recoiled in surprise, but then relaxed as he remembered where he was.

'I believe dat ve have a slafe to hunt down… ja?' his thick Deschutian accent rang out in the cool night air of the forest. He got to his feet, a gleam of excitement in his amber eyes.

'_Not _quite _yet, Seff. I have a dinner party to attend soon… but I need to eat first. And you know how _useless _I am at hunting animals…' _Ana gave the disappointed Seff a sly smile.

'So, you vant to vate here vile I go and get a rabbit or somethink?' he sighed at the woman he had so many times before seen rip the throat out of her victims, with eyes burning with Blood Hunger.

'_That would be _lovely _Seff…'_ she perched herself on a low branch and had placed one black-booted leg over the other. She then quickly turned around as Seff began to remove his clothes.

With the cold night air blowing on his bare chest, Seff held the small pendant that hung around his neck and closed his eyes tightly. Concentrating hard on the image of the full moon, he let his power take over his body. Extending the tendrils of magic from his mind to the edges of his limbs, he allowed a little of the pendants own to join with his. At once he could feel the transformation taking place. The sharp pain as course hairs pushed their way out of his skin. He felt his muscles knot and grow, strengthening his limbs. His bones cracked as they too grew, dislocating and reforming, creating his new shape. Seff felt his head disfigure, his ears grow and move upwards, his face becoming snout-like. He felt his hands and feet develop hard pads and strong claws instead of nails.

Seff opened his eyes, smells and sounds overwhelm him. The black, musty odour of Ana, The browny-green of the forest… and there, the deep, redish-brown of a rabbit.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ana had been watching. She saw the new Seff gaze at the moon, and, with a joyful vigour, howl! Oh such a beautiful howl! She thought, of the kind of happiness that only one like Seff could enjoy. She spun around just in time to see the tail of the wolf disappear into the forest.

* * *

All day, Akkarin could barely concentrate, his mind wandering to the strange meeting of the previous night. As always, his sharp-angled face remained a mask of authority, a single glance from which would send any other magician – bar, of course, his dear friend and administrator Lorlan – shrinking, bumbling or grovelling away with excuses of why they hadn't done things that they were meant to do. But unlike most days, were the High Lord enjoyed seeing the fear that he imposed on the faces of the lower magicians and novices, today he was preoccupied, barely even noticing those that quickly moved aside when he came striding down the guild corridors.

As Akkarin walked silently down the narrow path that led to his quarters, one face burned brighter than any fire in his mind, that of the mysterious Lady Ana Pavel, who had offered him much needed help, in the form of an alliance, to destroy the Ichani slaves that murdered the innocent dwells to attempt to gain enough power to destroy him.

Looking down at the cold stone path below his feet, the high lord sighed, his breath steaming in the cool night air. From somewhere in the woods that made up most of the guild grounds, an owl could be heard, its call muted and distant between the trees. Akkarin increased the warm air that was circulating inside his shield, and took the last few steps to his door. Looking down at the tarnished brass handle, he placed a hand on the familiar orb, feeling the coldness on his skin like the sharp prick of a pin.

The black, wooden-framed door swung open without a sound, and the aroma of cooking food filled the magicians nostrils. Takan, it seemed, was already preparing for his master's rendezvous later that night. Akkarin stepped into the room, instantly feeling the homely warmth seep in to his robes. For the first time that day, the high lord smiled, before seeking out his servant in the kitchen.

Steam, combined with the delicious odours of fragrant cooking wines and freshly roasted meats, bellowed out of the door in clouds when Akkarin entered the small kitchen, engulfing him in the cultures, traditions and family secrets that only the Sachakan knew. Takan stood there, pan held steadily over the roaring flames of the cook-fire, immersed in the complex, yet strange common, magic that was cooking.

The high lord felt a wave of affection towards his servant, as he always did when he observed him doing what he did indeed do best.

'Takan!' he raised his voice above the sizzling of the food, 'will all be ready soon? My guest could arrive at any minute and they will surely be starving!' although firm, Akkarin's voice was laced with compassion as he spoke.

'It will be, master. Some of my finest dishes will be served tonight! You will not be disappointed...' and without a second glance, Takan returned to his duty, beginning to flambé the substance that sizzled so in the cast-iron frying pan over the hearth.

'I'm sure that I won't be, Takan old friend' and _please_ drop the master… Akkarin added to himself as he left the humid room and shut the age-old oaken door behind him with a bang.

***

Smiling to herself, Ana Pavel rapped upon the black-glossed door of the high lord's accommodation with her knuckles, and, to no surprise on her part, the door swung inwards slowly.

Stepping inside, she was greeted by the warm aroma of roasted meat, and then the figure of Akkarin, sitting in a vast, red-leather armchair.

'Welcome, mysterious stranger, to my humble abode…' he stood up, spreading his arms wide in a welcoming fashion. Ana said nothing as she made her way across the room, but she smiled, revealing two long, white fangs, reflecting the walls in the light of the globes that lit the space.

'_We have… much to talk about, Dark Lord. May I suggest that we make our way into more _comfortable _surroundings…'_ Again, her thick, implacable accent struck Akkarin, but he did not show it on his face, remaining the icon of composer that he maintained throughout his guild duties.

'Of course, my lady,' he inclined his head slightly in the manner that was polite among magicians, for he did not want to be seen as rood when entertaining guests. 'Takan has the meal ready, he will serve once we are seated in the dining area… please, follow me.' The high lord drew himself up to his full height, before making his way to the left of the stairs over the soft carpet, one set leading downwards to his cellar, and the other leading upwards, and taking the later.

The pair ascended without a sound, neither speaking until both were seated at the table and the many courses, from birds stuffed and sewn to thin slices of fruits that grew so far away, were laid out in front of them on the starched table-cloth.

'_I am sure, Dark Lord, that you have many questions for me, some answerable with the briefest of words, but others, however, I may not be able to answer at all…' _Lady Ana stared at Akkarin across the food-laden table, almost no emotion visible in her cold, violet eyes. She ran her tongue across the front of her teeth as if tasting the delicacies that sat on the blue-china plate in front of her.

'This I understand, Lady Ana, but what I do not is this; you seem to know everything about me, yet I know nothing about you…' the black magician picked up the crystal glass, adorned with red gems, that was full of the dark wine that he enjoyed so much, taking a long sip before looking back at the woman, who's face had become grave.

'_To answer that, Dark Lord, I must first explain more about myself…' _she took her own glass in hand, gave it a look of disgust and set it back down again on the heavy yew table. '_I come from beyond the allied lands, but not from Sachaka, this you know already. My country is called Ramayi, and is one of the bordering countries to Sachaka, and like them also, we have our own magicians, myself being one of them. _

_Like you, when our children our discovered to have magical potential, they are put under the guardianship of another and taught how to use magic, but this is where the similarity ends. When the child has mastered the basics of… _control_, as you call it, they are then given, by the leader of their clan, a gift. The gift can be anything, but it is not material. Many are given the power to heal others as well as themselves – something which is taught here as common knowledge – others are given abilities… they may be able to read minds, create elusions able to imitate living beings, things that will make them more unique…' _Ana trailed off, letting her gaze slip to the food that steamed happily on the plates in front of them. '_But some, some already have abilities… enhanced senses, elements obeying them… usually the clan leader will refuse to grant these an extra asset… I was one of these children, so long ago' _Ana looked up at Akkarin, he was eating slowly, savouring the tender meat in his mouth, unlocking the flavours that hid in the juices, but he was listening intently, his eyes fixed on the sharp-boned face of the woman.

'_I begged my clan leader, offered him all number of things, wealth, power, even myself on many occasions. But all he refused, saying that my hunger for power would never cease. So I went away, shunned by my clan, searching the forests long and hard until I came across that which I had seeked. The ancient clans of the Vampires.'_

'Vampires? But are they not only folk-tales?' Akkarin stared at the woman before him with questioning eyes. He was cautious of Lady Ana Pavel, she was un-known to him, she could be a threat. Instinctively, Akkarin strengthened his shield, contemplating which strikes would be the most effective against such an opponent. The woman, shrouded in black, stood from her seat, seeming almost to fill the room with her figure. An anger burned in her eyes, more intense than any other the black magician had ever seen.

'_Ha! Folk tales? If only it had been… the vampires welcomed me in with open arms, feasting on my blood as if it were the best wine for one hundred miles! Only then did I realize that the necessity to draw power from another by breaking the skin barrier and taking blood was not a blessing of raw power, but a curse! And the gift that I possessed before? The ability to sense the past, present and future of a being that I drew power from, made the process all the more painful on my part…' _Ana sat back down with such a force that the wooden legs of the chair began to warp.

'So, you are a…' Akkarin faltered, gripping the handle of the knife he held tightly, 'but how do you know so much about me?' he too stood, feeding more power into his shield, letting it flow through his limbs. What was this woman saying?

'_I returned to my clan, convinced that a new dawn would come now that I was, in my mind, all powerful. But yet again, my clan leader halted my _progress. _He grounded my powers, then sold me to the Ichani as a slave, saying that no good would come of me wherever I may be._

_So the Ichani locked me up, Azura, the master that held me, used me as a main power-source. She took all from her other slaves, making sure that they were dead, left with no energy whatsoever. She then proceeded to take from me, every day for the ten years I was captive. But this was long ago, before the Sachakan war. She was one of the first to die, thinking that, because of me, no Kyrillian magician could touch her… _

_Afterwards, I escaped, running back to my homeland like a lamb to its mother. But I was an outcast, no clan would take me, so I retreated to the deep forests of Deschutz, were I met a charming young man named Seff. He was very well informed, and he still has many sources unknown to me… he was the one, Dark Lord, that told me about you and your troubles… But enough of my life story we have business to attend to…'_

The woman sat up straight in her chair, her eyes staring coldly at Akkarin, who returned her gaze strongly, hinting no emotion. The magician picked up his wineglass once again, savouring the strong, bittersweet taste and letting a drop run along down the grooves of the glass.

'Last night, you proposed an alliance…' Akkarin let magic flow around them, setting a lock on the door, and soundproofing the room, flowing into every nook and cranny, blocking up gaps in the windows and door. If anyone heard this conversation, he would surely hang, so to speak, for his crimes.

'_Yes, I did…' _Lady Ana Pavel spoke with a voice that was far from deadpan. It contained so much emotion that is difficult to determine which was on top; anger, fear, power, resentment, responsibility…

'How, _vampire, _will you go about this alliance. And how do you benefit from it?' the high lord took on an imposing tone, one that he used in the courts when addressing the king or his courtiers. He was still deeply suspicious of the woman, even more so after what she had told him, and he far from enjoyed her company.

'_I'm glad that you asked, Dark Lord,' _once again she smiled, so coldly that it would have turned to ice another opposer, but Akkarin just returned it with a gaze equally as chilling, '_I offer to help you hunt down the Ichani slaves that are prowling your slums, for I know that you have noticed they are getting stronger with each one they send. And I am sure that the small power that you take from your servant each night will one-day not be enough… I offer to offer my skills to you, as well as the great power that I possess, in return for the chance to thwart the Ichani, take my revenge for the great pain they once caused me'_ Lady Ana Pavel stood once more, striding over to the window at the other side of the room. Without so much as a look of concentration on her face, she broke the magic that held it and lifted the pane up, letting the cool nights breeze blow into the room, ruffling her jet-black hair like the wind does to leaves in trees.

'_I will let you think about my proposition, Dark Lord. Two nights from now, I will return, and you _will _have an answer for me'_

Akkarin, standing from his chair, lifted his head and held her gaze, the light from the globes in the room casting their shadows on the rich carpeted floor. 'I will have your answer, Pavel' Akkarin grimaced as the woman smiled, before, with a glint in her violet eyes, jumped out of the window, the night swallowing her up like a spider to a fly.

Without a second glance through the glass, the high lord shut the window, and with a sigh, made his way to the bare room that was his bedchambers.

Joy, oh joy, her thought to himself as he began to undress, yet another sleepless night…

I would like to thank everyone that read my first chapter, and even more those that reviewed! My favourite review was that of Kaylix (), thank you all!

**Apologies that most of this chapter was dialogue, but unfortunately, that can't be helped…**

And I also apologise for the lateness of this chapter as I have only recently been re-connected with the internet!

**Ramayi= like Romania, I cant write this accent, that's why Ana's speech is in **_**italics**_

**Deschutz= like Germany, for all my German readers, I hope I got the accent right! **

**xxx again, thanks to all for reading xxx**

**Xezbeth**


	3. Chapter 3: The Hunt Begins

Chapter 3: The Hunt Begins

It was the fresh morning air blowing in from the open window in his bedchamber that woke Akkarin from his slumber. It was early, dew was still wet on the grass, the first few birds were singing the morning chorus and there was no activity in any of the magician's quarters, bar the few teachers that were still preparing work for that day.

With a sigh, the high lord closed his eyes, knowing full well that he would not be able to get back to sleep.

That night had mostly been spent tossing and turning, worrying sweating, going over everything that the woman, Lady Ana Pavel, had said the previous evening. Without the king's permission, it was illegal to make any kind of alliance with anyone outside of the allied lands, but gaining this would mean revealing the truth about himself, his time in Sachaka and his late-night trips to the slums, via the passages that snaked inside the walls of the guild and the thieves' road.

But, Akkarin thought, if his use of black magic were discovered, he would be sentenced to death, so one more crime wouldn't add to his overall punishment…

He was torn, for one, he had duties to his king, but for the other, he must protect the guild from the threat from Sachaka.

Gritting his teeth, Akkarin pulled himself out of his bed, so warm and soft, putting his bare feet down heavily on the exposed floorboards. Walking slowly over to the robust chest of draws by the window that held his robes, the high lord created a small globe of light, before letting it float up until it touched the ceiling. He pulled out a set of robes, the gold thread of his inkle standing out sharply against the black wool.

Dressing quickly, he sent out a thought to the sleeping Takan, arousing him from the deep slumber that he always managed to fall into, on account of having a little energy taken from him before retiring to his rooms.

Striding over to the window, Akkarin gazed out over the grounds of the guild, then into the slumbering city of Imardin. If they knew what stalked their streets at night, he thought, I doubt they would sleep so peacefully!

Then again, he thought, slowly turning from the window and approaching his door, if the slaves only stay in the slums, maybe the houses would think of it as a blessing that someone is culling the vermin dwells, even if it is to try and destroy the guild.

A knocking brought him back to the present. Blinking, and shaking his head slightly, Akkarin placed a hand on the cold, metal knob and turned it, the door opening inwards and revealing a slightly blustered looking Takan.

'There is a young man here that wishes to speak with you…' there was agitation in his accented voice as he looked up at his master with eyes green as emeralds, 'I told him that you were busy but he was quite insistent, but he is neither servant nor magician nor novice'

'A visitor at this early hour?' the high lord's expression hardened as he took on the opposing figure of authority, but a bemused look was still present in his eyes.

'He is waiting in the…' the Sachakan trailed off as Akkarin drew himself up to his full height and pushed past him, striding down the darkened corridor (illuminating with the globe light that followed him) and then down the set of stairs leading to the visitors room.

Observing the man that now stood on the soft carpet with a cold eye, Akkarin addressed him formally, 'what is the purpose of this visit that you make of me so early this morning? And who is it that I have the pleasure of looking upon now?'

'Umm, High Lord,' the man ran a hand through his scruffy mop of brown hair, before bowing awkwardly at Akkarin, who was already a good head and shoulders above him, 'mine name ist Seff, und I am a frent of Lady Pafel,' he looked up at the huge figure of the high lord with inquisitive amber eyes, fingering the pendant that hung around his neck, 'she asked me to ask you if you had made a decision on vat you discussed last night…' Seff began looking around the large room he was standing in with much interest. There were three armchairs in all, and a shelf on which many books were crammed. Apart from the fact that this was the high lord's residence, the place had a homely feel to it.

Akkarin, face still a mask of no emotion, glanced at the man standing before him. He too had an implacable accent, but he guessed he was from Deschutz, the country that Lady Ana Pavel had told him she had fled to. Subconsciously, he fed a little more energy into his shield; he trusted neither Pavel nor this man, if that was what he was.

'Tell her, that my decision is…' at once, every possible (but mainly negative) outcome of agreeing to her truce came into his mind, but he pushed them all away. Taking a deep breath, his muscles tensing slightly, Akkarin breathed, 'I will make an alliance with her,' then, in a more certain voice, 'tell her to meet me here tonight… the hunt shall begin.'

Without a second glance, Seff spun around and walked purposefully out of the door, the brisk morning air making is breath steam.

Akkarin watched him as he made his way down the stone path leading away from his residence, and then veering off onto the grass. Checking behind him, Seff began to run, faster than should have been humanly possible, into the darkness of the woods, the trees so close in some parts that they barely let any light in…

Turning around, Akkarin walked towards the staircase that led to his cellar, letting a little magic flow toward the open door to close it. Slipping down into the relative blackness of his _most _private room, the high lord smiled coldly to himself, before picking up the lantern that was on the small wooden table. He allowed himself to generate enough heat to light the wick of the candle, and then reached out to the roughly hewn stone of the wall. With a soft click, the door to the secret passage opened inwards, the light from the lantern casting his shadow, surrounded by an incandescent glow, on the damp floor.

Time to visit Lorlan, Akkarin thought to himself as he stepped into the passage, it's been a while…

***

Dusk fell quickly over the city of Imardin. Winter was drawing in and the days growing shorter. The daily battle of sun and moon was leaning to the moons advantage, and its pale light was illuminating the pristine rooftops and streets in the inner circle, and the filth-ridden gutters of the slums.

The noise from the many inns filled the otherwise silent night, the joyous singing of the men that had, once again, drunk too much bol, shouting and gambling.

No-one saw the man slip out of the shadows of an ally, his large coat and hat covering his body and face as he, back pressed against the walls of the run-down houses, slunk through the streets.

Emerging from 'The Limek and Ceryni' free house, mug of bol still clutched in his hands, Therie Baskholm stumbled down the grimy streets, humming softly to himself. It had been a productive day, and had snuck away from his parents to celebrate. He was young, fourteen at most, but enjoyed the strong liquor as much as the next man.

He _defiantly _did not see the coated man as he shambled past, but the coated man saw him.

Silently, the man began to follow Therie, keeping to the shadows, avoiding the patches moonlight that fell on the streets. Other than the two men, the streets were deserted.

As they past another ally, the coated man leapt forwards at a lightning speed, grabbing Therie and dragging him backwards into it. Letting out a cry of surprise, he dropped his mug and fumbled clumsily for the knife on his belt.

But the man was too quick, holding him hard against the wall; he drew from inside his coat a knife, the handle inlayed with jewels. Eyes wide with fear, Therie watched the man slash his arm and place the palm of his hand where the blood was welling. He tried to shout, scream for help, but his tongue was tied. He tried to lash out at the man that was holding him, put up a fight, but he was paralyzed. The rough bricks behind his back dinging into his flesh were the last thing he felt, the laughing of drunkards from the bol-house was the last thing he heard, and the face of the man, green eyed, pale-skinned in the moonlight, was the last thing he saw.

***

Rain. Cold, wet, _horizontal_ rain. It found its way through the tightest gaps in the trees, helped by the impertinent wind that blew the leaves from branches and swayed the trunks so much they seemed to be in danger of falling.

Seff did _not_ like the rain. He sat there; huddled under the great canopy of the large tree that camped by, fur sodden and matted, watching the vampire sleep. Unlike him, who's only use for his magic was the transformation into his wolfish forms; she had subconsciously cast a weather-proof shield around her, blocking the water that, so persistently, sought to soak any living creature not sheltered by a strong roof.

Slowly, the sleeping figure began to stir, stretching her arms in front of her to send away the cramps that stole into her muscles 'over-day'.

Sitting up, Lady Ana Pavel observed her surroundings through the torrent of rain that was running down her shield. Hopping down from the thick branch were she lay, she sent heat into the surface of her shield, making the water evaporate into thick clouds of steam billowing above her head. Below her feet, once-dry leaves clotted together to create foul-smelling mulch that stuck like glue to her boots. Grimacing, Lady Ana sent a wave of magic at the leaves, much like a toned down force-strike, dislodging them and sending them flying towards the nearest tree.

Spinning around, satisfied that the hordes of leaves were no match for her superior strength, the vampire gazed at the sorry-looking creature in front of her. He looked up and wined, before standing and shaking himself – mainly at Ana – to try to, much in vain, get rid of the mighty lake that had settled on him.

'_Maybe you should learn how to shield after all, Seff…'_ she gave the werewolf an 'I told you so' look, her eyes glowing deep violet in the darkness of the forest.

Morphing into a more human shape, Seff glared at Lady Pavel, baring his teeth in a silent snarl, his own amber eyes glinting in the reflected moonlight off the raindrops. 'You know perfectly vell how I feel about your uses of magic. I voot be disrespecting hunterts of years of tradition und discipline from the were-clans if I learnt so much as to manipulate an object…' he gave the vampire another cold glare, ' und I am nicht zo ready to break laws as you' he turned away, letting the scents of the forest overwhelm him once more, sensing the slight differences that the wet made.

'_I believe that it is time we both paid our friend, the high lord, a visit. Tonight we hunt!'_ Lady Ana flashed the fuming wolf a smile, displaying her twin fangs outlined by lips pained black with kohl, and set off in the direction of Akkarin's residence. Lightening with this thought, Seff bounded after her, tail wagging slightly behind him.

Through the forest, only the heavy breathing of the wolf and the quiet slap of boots on wet ground could be heard, as if the trees dumbed the calls of the nocturnal life that was usually present in the guild grounds. The pair moved fast, the vampire almost sprinting, and the werewolf loping behind, with large, easy strides.

It took them barely a quarter of an hour to reach the edge of the forest, but instead of continuing onwards, Lady Ana made them stop.

'_We cannot go running out into plain view of the guild! Anyone could spot us, sense us or even just notice something is not right…' _she glanced around cautiously, sending her mind out to search for any presences nearby.

'Since when has that bothered you?' Seff questioned, giving his companion a bemused look.

'_It does not bother _me _personally, but we are consulting with the High Lord about something which is forbidden to even talk about in this country… I am concerned merely that if he is caught and sentenced, the Sachakans will most likely invade, as he is the only one protecting Kyrillia, even is the Ichani don't know about it yet…'_

Seff just nodded, the mop of brown fur that grew longer on his head falling over his eyes.

'_Take my hand, I will get us in.' _Lady Ana, without looking at the werewolf standing behind her, grabbed one of his large, muscled, fur-covered forearms and closed her eyes tightly. Picturing the front of the high lord's residence, she allowed her magic to flow thickly around and through herself and Seff, grasping every cell and squeezing it. With a slight pop, the pair began to blur and were hurtled forward towards the large stone building, not stopping when they reached the walls, and were pushed _through_ them.

***

Akkarin, followed by Takan, triggered the magical lock on the door to his cellar, the door opening inward with a click. Inside was as dark as the night outside, and probably as cold, but definitely not as wet. Not for the first time, the magician was indeed glad that most of his journey to the slums would be spent underground, although he _would _have to travel through the sewers for some of the way, as he could only bribe some of the guards on the thieves' road.* Turning to his servant, Akkarin brought to life a small globe-light, just enough to see by.

'Have you brought my clothes?' his tone was cold, but, he knew, Takan was used to it.

'I have, master. I assumed you wanted to keep the dirt on from last time?' the Sachakan held out a bundle of neatly folded clothes to Akkarin, turning away as he began to strip off, removing first the top half of his robes and then the bottom.

The high lord pulled on the scratchy linen shirt and tight, brown-woollen trousers, both covered in the filth of the slums from his last 'visit'. He had heard, from the mind of one of the city guards, that another dwell had been found dead in the streets, with nothing but a slash on the arm. Although the circumstances had been strange, the man had dismissed it as alcohol poisoning, feeling glad that another of the 'vermin' of the city had deceased, and obviously making the streets of the inner circle safer.

Dead with nothing but a slash on the arm. There was no doubt that this was the doing of an Ichani slave, but how powerful?

'Takan, I will need your strength for tonight' Akkarin addressed his loyal servant, watching him get down onto one knee and hold out his arm.

'My strength is yours, master' Takan's thick, Sachakan accent echoed around the room as he lowered his head.

Akkarin walked quickly to the small wooden table, faded with age, and placed his hand on the metal clasp of a shallow box. At his touch, the lid opened, revealing the curved, sickle-like blade and jewelled handle of the knife that had taken many a life in the past. Again, the high lord gazed at it, thinking of the skilled craftsman that had created it, most likely an unknown slave that had belonged to an Ichani long ago, and how it must have been passed down through generations.

Grasping the handle that seemed to fit so perfectly in the palm of his hand, Akkarin ran a finger over the blade, tracing the shape and feeling the cold metal on his skin. Turning, he pressed the sharp edge on the soft skin of his servant until blood welled in the wound. Taking the knife away, he wiped it on the material of his trousers and placed one hand on Takan's arm.

Reaching out with his power, Akkarin felt the presence of the Sachakan and moved towards it, blocking out the thoughts, memories and emotions that suddenly bombarded him. Almost instantly, he found Takan's power, seemingly glowing green in the back of his mind. Drawing it to himself, the high lord felt it joining to his own. A feeling like no other coursed through his body, he felt his own power growing, and it felt _good_. Suddenly, with much difficulty, Akkarin forced himself to stop. He had taken enough.

Breathing heavily, he let go of his servants arm and felt him relax.

Takan looked a little pale, but, as always, he smiled, looking up at his master with large, green eyes. The Sachakan stood up and bowed his head towards Akkarin, who was still kneeling, breathing hard, before turning to leave.

Akkarin watched as his servant left the room, listening to his muffled footsteps ascending the stairs. Sighing, he pulled himself up, feeling a rush of blood and magic coursing around his body. It wasn't difficult to realize why the Ichani gave themselves in to the lure of black magic.

Placing the jewelled knife back into its faded oak box, surrounded by the strong magical field that prevented its use by another, the magician wiped his hands on the filth-encrusted fabric of his trousers.

Suddenly, a rush of magic, more powerful than he had ever encountered before, filled the small stone room. Instinctively, Akkarin strengthened his shield, allowing the waves of energy to ricochet off it and onto the walls. Eyes wide with a mixture of fear and wonder, he watched as the external wall began to vibrate, and a near-blinding light began to grow in the centre of the room. As the light began to fade, the shape of two figures became clear, starting out as black silhouettes, gradually filling out. One about six-foot three, with long, flowing black hair, face set in deep concentration. The other was hugely different. It, for that was all that Akkarin could see it as, was over seven-foot, strongly built with powerful arms and legs. It wore no clothing, but it did not need it, for it was covered from head to foot in a course brown fur, gleaming with the rain that was still lashing down outside. Its head was elongated into a snout, with large, cone-shaped ears positioned high on the top. Instead of fingernails, it had long, sharpened black claws that looked capable of disembowelling almost anything that came in its path. From its rear end sprouted a long, bushy tail that hung low, almost touching the floor.

Aghast at the sight, Akkarin took a step back and, for the first time in a long time, felt a fear rising in his stomach. Just as he was about to send a force strike hurtling in the intruders direction when the creature opened its wide, gaping mouth full of what looked like hundreds of sharp fangs, and _wined_. It suddenly bent double; leaning on the woman, tail firmly wedged between its legs and began to retch.

With inhuman speed, the woman leapt away, turning her back on the enfolding scene. The Limek-like creature fell to the floor in a crouch and vomited thick, yellow bile over the stone flags. Breathing heavily, it braced itself against the walls thick with moss, causing much of it to fall away. Gradually, it grew smaller, the fur disappearing back into the pours that it came from. Its head morphed into that of a human male, rough brown hair and amber eyes bent down.

The woman turned to face Akkarin, and to his surprise, Lady Ana Pavel gave him a toothy smile, a little colour coming to her deathly pale cheeks.

'_Apologise. Dark Lord, we could not afford to enter via the door,' _she glanced coldly at the naked figure of Seff, who was still crouching in the corner, soaked to the skin.

Akkarin, allowing his shield to decrease slightly, followed her gaze.

'He is the one who you sent to deliver your message, who is he?' the magician stood to his full height, making sure that he _was _taller than the vampire who stood before him.

'I,' Seff stood, neatly stepping over the pile of vomit and morphed into a slightly less _revealing _form, ' am Seff, and in mine langvage, I am called a _verevolf_ , vich translates to man-limek, in this tongue.' He came to face Akkarin, who was at least head and shoulders taller than him. Then he gave Lady Ana a feral look and bared his teeth, ' du KNOW how much I hate it ven you do das!'

'_apologies all round, I suppose then...' _she rolled her violet eyes almost right up into her skull, ' _but I believe we had better be on our way, a slave waits for no man,'_ she glanced once again at Seff, '_ or beast' _but this got no more than a sarcastic smile that revealed the full proportions of the multitude of dagger-like teeth kept beyond his thin back lips.

***

Through the tight, dark tunnels, of the thieves' road, Akkarin lead the vampire and the werewolf. More than once had they been stopped by the guards, having to either give them a large bribe or take a detour through the maze of sewers that snaked under the city of Imardin, inner circle and slums alike. At this, Seff had complained greatly, the stench of human waste and rotting vegetables too over-powering, describing it as a sickly greenish brown specked with yellow. That, Akkarin added silently to himself, reminded him greatly of the bile that the limek-man had produced earlier.

It wasn't long before they came to an opening, a tight space under one of the better-built houses in the slums. Crawling out, the three found themselves on a deserted street corner. After inhaling the air, only slightly fresher than that of the sewers they had previously been occupying.

Reaching out with his magic, Akkarin began searching for the mind of the slave. The last sighting had only been a couple of streets from here, by his guess, so he might still be close by. A hand rested on his shoulder, and the heavily accented voice broke through his concentration.

'_don't waste your time, I have already tried that, the slave has hidden himself quite well this time'_ Ana looked over at the Seff, who's nostrils were flaring and ears were twitching, ' _that is why I brought Seff here along' _ she smiled, putting on show her twin fangs, the light of the candle-lamp held by the magician reflecting off them.

'I have his scent.... he is stationary, but it is growing stronger.... also, another... his scent veakening, oferpowered by' the werewolf's eyes grew wide, ' death! The slafe is draining!'

Automatically, Akkarin sent out his senses, searching for the magical signature of black magic, ignoring his own and being almost pleasantly surprised at the thick aura of it that hung around the vampire. The slave wasn't far away, only a couple of the rough, quickly made streets away.

It was Lady Ana that made the first move. She spread her hands out wide (not something a guild magician would do, Akkarin noted), fingers splayed, and began to chant in a language forgotten millennia before. As the harsh, dry words came from her tongue like sandpaper, her hands began to glow with a faint purple light, getting stronger and stronger.

Akkarin watched this with a bemused expression on his face, feeling the tendrils of light leap out and entwine themselves around first the vampire, then the werewolf – who had tensed considerably – and finally himself, despite the shield he maintained. His first instinct would be to try to dispel it from his body, but, somehow, it almost felt good to be bathed and engulfed in the light. His limbs began to feel free, almost floating, and his skin began to tingle. Forgetting the seriousness of the mission, Akkarin almost wanted to laugh, cry out and tell the world of the joy that had taken over his mind and body.

But, as quickly as the feeling had come, it was gone, to be replaced by a rushing sensation. Looking down, the magician found himself ten feet in the air, with only the tongues of light holding him there, and moving at a great speed towards the walls of the nearest house.

Panic, stronger than any he had felt in years, overcame him. Feeding vast amounts of energy into his shield, the magician tries to break free of the light that held him, but it wound tighter and tighter, constricting his limbs. Looking to his left, he saw Seff, huge fists clenched and eyes shut tight, also hurtling towards the wall, and Lady Pavel, still chanting, inaudible through the wind that rushed past his ears, entwined in her own light. Whipping his head back round, Akkarin saw that the house was only a foot or so away. Gritting his teeth, he braced himself for the imminent impact... but it didn't come.

They didn't slow as they reached the wall, in fact, they _quickened. _It was as if the stone, or even the house itself, was nothing at all.

The three _passed through _the walls, through the small house, and back out into the street, before rushing towards and through another and another. It was when they had reached possibly the darkest; most dismal street Akkarin had ever seen when the vampire released them.

She, herself, landed in a neat crouch, before standing up again, and Akkarin steadied himself with magic, levitating down to the muck covered floor, but Seff, shaken from the experience of travelling through walls, failed to brace himself to being let down, and fell into a heap against the wall they had just been through.

Puzzled even more so, Akkarin ran a hand over the wooden building, tracing the lines of the magical residue left behind by their journey.

'_we have no time to loose, the slave won't be far away, with luck he could still be draining...' _Ana grabbed the moaning werewolf by the arm and hauled him up, gesturing to Akkarin to follow her as she walked down the alley.

'He vas here... but he ist long gone now,' Seff mumbled groggily, paw clasped firmly to the side of his head.

'Then I know where he will strike next,' Akkarin bent down to the floor where there was a pile of sacking material.

'The smell of death is strong here, he vould haf left the body somevhere' the werewolf turned to Akkarin, who was carefully removing the hessian from the pile with one hand and covering his nose with the other. As another sack was taken away, something white could be seen protruding from beneath.

With a puzzled expression on her face, Ana Pavel made her way over to join the two men, who were peering intently at the sacking, with a slight look of disgust.

'_come along now, we need to find this body befo-' _she stopped, her eyes widening as looking up at her was the slashed face of a young man, his mouth fixed in a silent scream and dead eyes staring with terror, as if the man who had taken his life was still infront of him. The vampire took a shocked step back, and was met not with the cool hard surface of the alley wall, but with slightly spongy warmth of muscle and flesh.

'well, wha' 'ave we got 'ere then?' the thief gave them a smile that revealed his gold teeth gleaming in the moonlight, 'wha' indeed boys?'

**More apologies for the lateness of this chapter! But thank you all for being patient, and reading it!**

**Please R+R **

**Xxx Xezbeth xxX**


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